The Unwanted Marriage: Chapter 61

I’m numb as I sit opposite Eric, unfazed by the glee in his eyes. “I always knew I’d be the one to draw up your divorce papers,” he tells me, a smug smile on his face. “A few weeks before your one-year wedding anniversary, no less. You two didn’t last very long at all, did you? I was so sure I’d have to wait the full three years, and I would have, you know? For her, I would have. I’m not sure how you got out of your grandmother’s terms and conditions, but I’m grateful for it.”

He pushes a stack of papers toward me, and I glance them over reluctantly. A few weeks ago, I’d have grabbed him by the collar and smashed his face into this godforsaken table, but today I don’t have the energy for it. “She’s still my wife, right until we both sign these papers, and if I have it my way, she never will.” My voice is listless, all fight gone. Faye and I have barely spoken since I walked out of her cottage. She followed me home, but nothing she could say would justify her actions.

The worst part is I don’t even blame her. Not truly. I’m not hurt that she wanted a place of her own — I’d have fully supported that if she’d just told me. I’m hurt that she felt the need to keep something so significant hidden from me, that she felt like she needed an escape from me. If I keep her trapped in this marriage, she’ll never be able to heal the way she deserves to. She’ll always feel beholden to someone. I tried to fool myself just as I fooled her — what I gave her was the illusion of independence, not true independence itself.

“She’ll sign,” Eric says. “She never wanted you, Dion. It was me she was dating while she was engaged to you. She held onto me until the very last second, and you know it. I never stopped waiting for her, and now I’ve finally got a real shot with her. I won’t waste it.”

My expression hardens as images of her on Eric’s arm flash through my mind. He’d have her smiles, her little sighs as she tries to figure out the next notes when she’s composing, her moans as she comes.

“Even if she does give you another chance, you’ll never have all of her. She’ll compare you to me every single day, and you’ll never be able to measure up. You can’t book out The Louvre for her so she can see the Mona Lisa in peace, like I did a few weeks ago. Nor can you buy orchestra halls, so she’ll be able to hold her concerts in the best places in the city with little notice. Do you even know what she needs after a long day, or what to do if she can’t sleep? Would you be able to protect her the way I can?”

I shake my head, a cruel smile making its way onto my face. “Even if she’s with you, the whole world will remember her being mine. Even if you could, no one else will let you forget.” A dark chuckle escapes my lips as my eyes meet his. “And you won’t, will you? You’ll never forget the way she took my cock in her dressing room, or how desperate she was for it. She loved it. Did you know we took your roses home that day? She spread the petals on our bed and asked me to fuck her on top of them. One of my best memories, so thank you for that.”

He looks stricken, and I don’t feel even remotely better. The truth is I’d give her my blessing if this is what it takes for her to be happy. Faye deserves it more than anyone.

“Dion, I don’t care if the whole world thinks of her as your ex-wife, so long as I’m the one by her side. As for everything else? Well, thanks for teaching her things I’m sure to enjoy.”

I lunge for him and grab his tie, yanking him closer. He stumbles onto the conference table, fear flashing through his eyes for a moment. This. This is why Faye felt the need to have an escape plan. Because she saw the monster that lurks in my shadows.

I let go of him and take a shaky breath as I run a hand through my hair, my heart fractured beyond repair. “She likes chamomile tea after a long day,” I murmur eventually. “So I keep dried chamomile flowers in the house, just for her. And when she can’t sleep, she likes to compose. She’ll hide out in the living room and hum tunes as her mind works through the notes. She likes input though, so if you can give it to her, she’ll appreciate it. That’s how you can get her to fall back asleep on rough nights.”

Eric stares at me wide-eyed, and I offer him a shaky smile. “I love her, Eric. With all I’ve got, all I am. Offering her a divorce has nothing to do with you. I’m doing it because she deserves to finally be free and independent, but if my choice leads her back to you… then you’d better make sure you love her more than I do. Treat her better, love her harder, be the man I could never be. All those things I can give her that you can’t? That’s just money. I’ll give her enough, so that won’t matter.”

He nods at me hesitantly, clearly shaken by both my actions and my words. Truthfully, so am I. I can’t stop thinking of Faye with Eric as I walk to my car, my heart aching. When I requested the divorce papers, he hadn’t even been much of a consideration — I’d done it because it’s the right thing to do.

“Mr. Windsor,” Garret says as he holds the door open for me. I shake my head when it looks like he’s got something to say to me, only to freeze when I sit down.

“Hi, Dion,” Grandma says.

I see. So that’s what Garret had tried to warn me about. I sigh and buckle myself in, feeling sick to my stomach. If she knew the second I stepped foot into our lawyer’s office, then she must have known about Faye’s cottage. How many people knew?

“I’m not here to scold you,” she says, her voice soft. Grandma places her hand on my knee and squeezes, a sweet smile on her face. “I’m just here to tell you that I’ll support you no matter what. I learned my lesson with Ares and Luca, and I won’t make the same mistakes with you. If this is what you want, then I’ll stand by your decision. The only thing I’ll ask for is your forgiveness.”

I place my hand over hers and interlace our fingers. “There’s nothing to forgive, Grandma. Nothing at all.”